


Far Above the Moon

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Ten Years On [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Sam Holt is the true Space Dad, Ten Years Later, Ten Years On, Time Skips, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 18:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: The Castle of Lions is haunted by the ghost of someone who never died.Sam Holt reflects on time, mourning, and loss in the decade that Shiro is gone.Sequel to Come Back (as pure as gold)





	

It had been nearly three years since Sam Holt had seen his wife and daughter.

There was no way for him to know that for sure, of course.  There were the nearly exactly six months it had taken to get to Kerberos, but after that it had been the Galra ships and then the mining planet, and he knew those day cycles didn’t match up perfectly, or even very well, to Earth’s.  Then they’d been tapped by the Rebellion and spirited away to yet another planet.  By then, Sam and Matt were both well used to the mining planet’s day cycle, and so now it was impossible to tell how it would have felt against Earth.

Still, it had been about 853 cycles since they’d been captured, and 184 on the  _ Daedalus. _

Nearly three years, give or take.

Nearly three years since Sam had left home, buoyed on the excitement of discovering something new and exciting about the creation of their very solar system, of the universe itself.  Accompanied by his son and Takashi, he’d gone with the kernel of hope of learning about how life was created and supported in the universe.  One step closer to his life’s work, to First Contact.

At this point, it didn’t even feel ironic anymore.  It felt like they’d been asking for it.

Three years of struggle and heartbreak, of losing Matt and then Takashi, losing his freedom, slowly losing hope.  Of holding onto his son as tight as he could, lest he be taken away yet again.  A year of being a different kind of prisoner, the kept technicians for a rebellion Sam supported in theory but not in brutal action.  Of thinking ‘today is at least not worse than yesterday’, and that being enough.

But something had changed, not too long ago.

Whispers of something ancient enough to be thought fiction.  Then stories of freed worlds, of fighting back, of a weapon powerful enough to stop the Galra reign.

Then Zarkon fell.

The Galra empire shattered but held together by the frames of it.  Where had once been a cold, unyielding wall was shattered and cracked like a spiderweb.  They tried to maintain it, tried to hide the fragile shape, tried to still call it impossible to take down.  But loyalty built on a single figure couldn’t be maintained when they were dead (sleeping?  Disappeared?  Run away?  Each rumor was different).  Now the empire wouldn’t last.  It didn’t have the integrity.  But the sharp shards were more dangerous than the wall had been.

Which was how now they found their planet under Galra attack, not for the rebellion housed on it, but for sheer expansionism by a power hungry commander.

It was also how they first met Voltron.

The lions (four of them: blue, green, yellow, red.  Were the rumors wrong?  Where was the bipedal figure and the sword?) swooped, lit by the glow of a wormhole, followed by the ancient castle.  One Galra commander’s fleet wasn’t nearly a match for the lions.  They flashed with fire, with lazers, changed form and struck.

It was baffling to watch.  Where was that all  _ coming _ from?  Why lions?  In stories it made sense, somehow, like in folklore.  But in reality it was bizarre.

Once the fleet was destroyed, the lions turned and headed down to the surface.  From the stories, Sam could guess that they were looking for whoever had sent the distress signal.

Reaching back, Matt grabbed onto Sam’s hand and  _ ran, _ at a clip Sam had to struggle with his cane to keep up.  But he didn’t complain or try to get Matt to stop.  He wanted to see too.

They arrived to see figures already stepping out of the lion’s mouths ( _ baffling) _ and stepping over to the growing crowd, both inhabitants of the local town and members of the rebellion, mixed and mingling until it was impossible to tell them apart.  

When the red one pulled off his helmet, he was  _ human. _

Sam froze, leaning heavily on his cane.  How did- how could there be- Was it just an alien that looked human?  Who could be here from Earth, piloting Voltron?

Too many questions raced through Sam’s mind, sticking him on the question of  _ how _ and not  _ who? _

Matt didn’t have that problem.

Before the red fighter (red paladin, Sam remembered that, they were paladins of Voltron) could even open his mouth to speak, Matt stepped forward.  “Shiro’s duckling?”

Takashi’s-

That was Keith Kogane.

That was  _ Keith Kogane, _ Takashi’s favored cadet.  The talented problem child that had been the subject of so many of Iverson’s rants that Sam had considered investing in earplugs.  He was older, stood straighter, and his hair curled down to his chin now, but it was recognizably him.

Starting, Keith turned to stare at Matt, his eyes going wide.  “Oh.  Oh!  Pidge?” He called, turning to look at the green paladin.

They stood utterly frozen from a moment, then yanked off their helmet too, nearly throwing it aside.

It was Katie.  Shorter hair, older than when he’d left, but it was  _ Katie. _

With a cry, she ran forward and nearly tackled Matt in a hug, sending them both sprawling into the dirt.  “You’re- you’re  _ here? _  I was looking but you were kidnapped and I found where you were but not where you’d gone but you’re  _ here. _  I can’t believe I found you!  Where’s-”  She picked her head up, eyes wet, and looked around until her eyes found Sam.  Then the tears spilled as she shoved herself up, and darted toward Sam too.  He met her as close to halfway as he could, not nearly as fast as her but just as enthusiastic.

It had been three years since Sam Holt had seen his wife.

But today he had his children.

***

That was how Sam and Matt first encountered Voltron.

Later, when they were aboard the Castle of Lions and Katie started to sob, they found out about Takashi.  At the news, Matt gave his sister another hug, then disappeared into the room he’d been assigned.  He didn’t come out again for hours.

Sam held onto his daughter for hours through tears of his own.

***

It was strange, to mourn someone’s death, then realize they’d had another life after.

Takashi haunted the castle.  

There were little reminders that someone else had once lived here, but was gone now.  A pair of quarters at the front of the hallway, nearest to the control room, remained unused.  A black bayard hovered, untouched, in the paladin storage room.  The extra, empty chair in the center of the control room was avoided studiously.  There were a pair of tech pads no one used, loaded up with reports and translated books.

“Why do you have these just sitting around?” Matt had asked once, picking one off the shelf and turning it on.  “Are they broken?  I can probably fix them up.”

In a flash, Keith stormed over and snatched it away.  He turned it off and put it back, then got between them and Matt until he stepped back.  “Shiro was in the middle of something,” Keith hold him, in a tone that sounded like improperly hardened steel.  Brittle and sharp.  “When we get him back, I don’t want him to lose his place.”

“Right,” Matt replied carefully, taking another unsure step away.  Once upon a time he would have needled that, would have reached around Keith and told him that when Takashi got back he’d just find his place again, the big baby.  Sam wasn’t sure if it was learned respect or learned wariness.

It was still sad to see.

More than the castle, Takashi haunted the people and the lions.

The Black Lion was regarded with a gravitas and wariness the rest didn’t get.  The paladins were casual about their own, no longer seeming to understand when Matt and Sam found the whole thing strange.

“I guess it is weird,” Hunk admitted once, nose crinkled.  He glanced back toward the Yellow Lion’s hangar, like he felt odd just admitting it.  “But we’ve been doing it a long time now, and it just makes sense.”  He gave them a sheepish smile, no doubt aware of how unhelpful that sounded.

Matt tapped his fingers against the table, brows up.  “That clears that up.  Thanks bunches.”

“Sorry,” Hunk returned, shrugging, but there was mischief to his expression.  “Maybe you can try and chat with one?  I don’t know if they’re not supposed to talk to anyone who isn’t their paladin, but you might be kinda close, so you can give it a shot.”

Brows up, Matt snorted.  “Oookay.  Sure, why not, I’ll talk to the giant psychic robot lions.  No big deal.  Black is closest, right?”

Hunk stood.  “No!”  Then he froze, aware he’d half shouted the words.  “Well, I mean, yes, technically.  But the Black Lion is... that one’s the hardest.  Since Shiro.”  His shoulders slumped and his eyes locked onto the table, a weight dropping onto Hunk’s shoulders.  “Black listens to Keith mostly, and Allura sometimes, but it’s not as well.  Neither of them really...”  He swallowed hard, deeply uncomfortable.  “Maybe try Green?”

Pausing, Matt started to draw himself up, but Sam grabbed onto his arm.  “We’ll leave the Black Lion alone,” he reassured Hunk.  “For now.  I’d like to do some more readings on it soon, though.  To see.”

That made Hunk look up, and he nodded.  “Probably a good idea.  We’ve done some, but we still don’t really... we don’t know.”

No one knew what had happened to Takashi.  A year and a half from his disappearance, there wasn’t so much as a trace.  Just many questions.

Matt tried speaking to each of the four lions, probably out of boredom rather than interest.  Sam went along to keep an eye on him without attempting for himself.  Sam didn’t talk as much, these days.  He prefered to watch first.

“Nothing,” Matt reported flatly.  “Like talking to my laptop back home.”

Brows rising, Sam eyed him.  “Then you should have no problem keeping up a dialogue.  You had no problem chatting at your computers.  Usually things your mother and I didn’t appreciate hearing.”

Matt rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as they walked back to the main section of the castle.  The path they took crossed in front of the Black Lion’s hangar, and Matt paused.  “One more.”

“Matthew.”

“I’m not going to try,” Matt replied.  “If I can’t get the others to work for me, then calm, regal leadership sure isn’t going to be the combo breaker.  I just want to see.”  He pushed through the door, and Sam sighed at the ceiling.  And to think a few months ago he’d been upset at Matt learning tact.

Inside, the Black Lion was still, standing in place like all the others.  The eyes were dark, but this felt different.  Felt emptier.  

It was psychological.  The Black Lion was just as capable of acting as the rest.  It only felt dead because Takashi was gone.

This hangar had become a memorial.

Rather than move to the Lion, Matt walked along the walls, investigating the tools and equipment lined up on it.  Everything was in a proper place, some cords looped haphazardly like the person who put them away- like Takashi had been too tired to do it properly, but had at least felt obligated to make an attempt.

On the far side of the wall there was a desk with a console.  Matt walked over to it, paging through the printouts with curious ease.  When Sam stepped over, it looked like blowouts of parts of the lion, with messy scrawl in English along the sides.  On the corner of the desk were no less than four empty cups.  From the lack of residue inside, they had probably held water.

Matt picked one up, letting out a snort. “Oh, yeah, this was Shiro.  He used to leave his water bottles  _ everywhere _ during training, do you remember?

Lips curling up, Sam nodded.  “Oh yes.”  Takashi had gotten the dangers of dehydration drummed into his head at some point, so he near always had a bottle of water on hand.  But he never seemed to remember them after, so he inevitably collected a small army of them before he finally remembered to recycle them.

Sam had gotten him a refillable water bottle as a joke just before they left, and Takashi had brought it on the trip with him, pointedly drinking from it constantly.

Sam wondered where it had ended up.  He thought Takashi would probably prefer his things stay useful rather than small, mournful shrines.

But these actions weren’t for Takashi, not really.  They were for the ones he’d left behind.

Collecting the glasses, Matt sighed dramatically.  “I guess I’ll clean up after the six year old.”  He grinned, but then the smile fell.  “Well.  Seven now.”

Oh.

Reaching out, Sam put his hand between Matt’s shoulders, gently leading him and his armful of glasses to the door.

On the way out, Sam glanced back one last time.  The lion hadn’t moved at all, still dark and still.

Maybe the Black Lion wasn’t dead, but it was certainly haunted.

***

Slowly, inevitably, time wore at their edges.  The hole that Takashi left was an instability, one that couldn’t remain forever.  Day by day, the members of the crew were pushed together in new ways, making up for the loss in each other, filling up those needed niches.

For Allura, that was taking command in the smaller ways that Takashi had once supported.

For Keith, it was learning to speak up and encourage, rather than stay on the sidelines.

For Katie, it was melding and participating with the group more, volunteering to start activities and keep them together.

For Hunk, it was learning to speak up more, to be the first voice to say what was needed, to suggest the right thing over the easy one.

For Lance, it was putting aside grudges and pride, working as a unit rather than creating competition.

For Coran, it was a comforting hand and a quiet presence, not necessarily words or actions.  Just being there when needed.

For Matt, it was stubborn drive, it was loud teasing, it was refusing to allow Takashi’s memory to be purely sacred.  It was sharing stories of mistakes and failures, not being silenced or glared into submission, and talking about recovering from those problems rather than ignoring them.

And for Sam...

For Sam is was being a listening ear.  It was an open door and calm patience.  It was offering his experiences and years as a way to help others rather than letting it fester.

“I don’t know what to do,” Keith admitted to him once.  “I don’t know the words like Shiro did.”

“You don’t need to,” Sam replied.  “Use  _ your _ words instead.  Or don’t.  But you can’t live by being a copy of Takashi, Keith.  It won’t work here anyway.  You can’t be what he was, but you don’t need to be.  You need to be you.”

Keith frowned.  “I want someone to be Shiro.  I don’t want him to be-”  He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to.  He didn’t want Takashi to be really  _ gone.  _

“No one is,” Sam replied softly.  “No one can be but Takashi.  Trying will only hurt you and the team.”

It wasn’t a satisfying answer.

It wasn’t a satisfying situation.

But time moved on, inevitable and unrelenting.  They adapted, and the hole slowly closed and mended.

The scars remained.

***

It had been approaching six years since Sam Holt had last spent a day with his wife.

He never wanted to go another day without her.

They had both aged, lines to their faces that weren’t there before.  Colleen had greyed and not bothered to dye it, hair paler along the temples and scattered through her hair.  At least Sam had gone white early.  He joked that Matt was personally responsible for each one, but the truth was it was just a family trait.

Ironically, it was one that Takashi had mirrored rather than either of his biological children.

The thought hurt less than it used to.  Time had sanded down those edges too.

Speaking of.

Sam pressed a kiss to Colleen’s temple, reluctantly pulling his arm away from around her waist.  “I need to make a call,” he told her.  “One last thing for today.”

Tilting her head up, Colleen frowned but nodded.  “Alright.  Who else do we need to call?”  They’d already spoken to family and friends, had dealt with their awe and confusion.

Sam smiled, because Colleen still said ‘we’.

“I have one last responsibility,” he replied, pulling out a scribbled phone number from his pocket.  “I don’t think it’ll take very long.  I want to see if they’ll meet me in person.”

Colleen’s brow furrowed, but she nodded.  When Sam took his phone and went outside to the porch, she followed, standing a few feet away and leaning against the doorframe.

Taking a deep breath, Sam steeled himself and called the number.

“Hello, this is Shoma Yamamoto,” A voice answered, quick and distracted, lightly accented.  There was clacking in the background like they were typing while they spoke, and the tone was subtly impatient.  It sounded like answering the phone was a bother.

Sam swallowed hard.  “Hello, Mr. Yamamoto, this is Commander Samuel Holt.  This was listed as the most current emergency contact for your nephew, Lt. Shirogane.”

There was quiet as the typing stopped.  “Ah.”  There was pure silence for a moment that Sam didn’t dare break yet.  “I see.”

Nothing more.

“I tried to contact you earlier this week, but I was unable to reach you,” Sam explained, in case that was the problem.  They’d been on Earth for several days now, and the news was already reporting about aliens and the return of missing Galaxy Garrison cadets.  He might have figured out that he should have been contacted.

“I am not always available,” Yamamoto answered carefully.  “Is there a change with Takashi, then?”

No, Sam was wrong.  Yamamoto had no way of knowing.  He probably thought this was another administrative call about Takashi’s affairs.  Looking into it, Sam knew he hadn’t listed anyone else on his records.

It was surreal, to hear someone else call him ‘Takashi.’  

“Currently, his status is being changed to missing in action instead of dead.  He survived the Kerberos mission, but has since gone missing.  I’m sorry to tell you that.”

Silence again.  “He... I see.”  The quiet was thoughtful, processing.  “What does this mean, exactly?”

“It means... it terms of his affairs, not much,” Sam admitted.  “But it means he survived.  It means he could still be alive.  And it means he lived on to do amazing things.  Your nephew was a hero.  He saved billions of lives.  I was hoping to speak with you in person about it.”

“My wife and I are travelling for business,” Yamamoto answered.  “We will be back late next week, if you have time then.”

It wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.

Sam shouldn’t judge.  He had no idea what this man or his wife’s lives were like.  Or maybe he should try and speak to Mrs Yamamoto instead, who might have a very different reaction.  It didn’t change as much for them, since they still had no idea.

Except Shiro’s fierce, stubborn independence made sense in the face of someone who was too busy to come home to talk about their nephew’s possible death.

“I’ll let you know when I can meet,” Sam replied, voice flat.  “I need to check.  I’ll leave a message.”

The typing started back up.  “Thank you, that would be appreciated.  Was there anything else?”

Yes.  There was so much else.  There was everything on the tip of Sam’s tongue, the worlds Shiro had saved and the wounds he’d overcome.  The fights he’d won, the one he’d lost, the lives he’d changed.

“That’s all,” Sam replied, and with a quick goodbye, he hung up the phone.

Then he threw as hard as he could into the yard.

Colleen stepped over, her hand resting on his shoulder.  “Sam?”

“He deserved better.  We all did, but Takashi deserved more.”

A year of survival, and another year of fighting impossible battles and winning.

All for a pilot error.  All to be MIA.

What bullshit.

***

The sting got better.  Sam’s knee got worse.  Colleen joined them in the castle.  They gained scars, survived battles, made friends.  Matt started to get the first hint of wrinkles, laugh lines that only appeared when his eyes crinkled with a joke or a grin.

They lost some battles.  Lance nearly lost his eye. They learned to be more careful, learned to fight smarter, learned to adapt and change, traded out lions when required.

They won more than they lost.

The sting never went away, but time moved on.

The ghost still lived in the castle, but it didn’t feel so haunted.

***

Until the ghost came back to life.

***

“Hello, Takashi,” Sam greeted softly, standing in the doorway.

Takashi started, then scrambled to his feet, shoulders set.  “Hello, Sir.”

Sir?

At first, Sam thought he was trying to come over to greet him.  Then he realized that Takashi was  _ standing to greet a commanding officer. _

Because last time he’d seen Sam, he’d been his commander.  It hadn’t even been two years for him.

Oh, this was going to be a long day.

“Oh my god,” Lance murmured, clearly realizing the same thing.  “For Sam?  That’s so  _ weird.” _

Takashi paused, then frowned at him.  “What’s weird?”

“You’re being all good little soldier boy for him,” Lance replied easily, pushing back onto the back two legs of his chair.  “For  _ Sam. _  It’s wild.”

Glancing between them both, Takashi frowned like growing storm clouds.  “Why wouldn’t I?  Commander Holt is-”

He didn’t finish, because Sam strode over and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s strange because I’m not their commander, and I’ve never asked them to treat me as such,” Sam told him.  “Not out of disrespect.  I’m a member of their crew, same as anyone else.”

Takashi paused, then returned the hug with surprising strength.  “I suppose.  But you’re-” he didn’t finish, but he looked up at Sam.  There was sheer admiration in his gaze that took Sam’s breath away.

He’d known, intellectually, that Takashi looked up to him as a commander.  And Sam had heard from his daughter that he’d absorbed and repeated some of the things Sam had told him, especially about letting go of nerves and being great.

But in the decade since Sam had last seen Takashi, that knowledge had faded and aged.

It was a start to see it in person.

“I’m just Sam, these days.  It’s much more relaxing.” Sam rested his hand on Takashi’s shoulder and squeezed.  “That goes for you too.”

Judging from Takashi’s expression, Sam may as well have flicked him on the nose.  “I can try,” he replied carefully, stepping back.  Then his eyes flickered down to the cane.  “Oh!  Please, sit down.”

Sam was alright, but it was amusing to let Takashi fuss, so he settled down on the side of the bed and tilted his head at Lance.  “Did you plan on staying?”

“No, but now I kind of want to.  This is  _ amazing. _ ”  It could have sounded sarcastic, but Lance looked honest as he watched the pair of them.  “But yeah, I’ll go get this whole party all organized.  You two have a good chat.”  Lance smirked as he stood up.  “We’re a call away if you need us.”

With that he slipped out, closing the door behind him, and leaving Sam and Takashi alone.  There was a moment of silence as the sheer enormity of ten years stretched before him.  Takashi, even aged by the scars and white hair, looked so  _ young _ compared to Matt.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Takashi admitted.  “What  _ happened _ to you?  I wasn’t even sure Matt found you after-” he cut off, wincing.

Sam’s brows rose.  “After you saved his life?”

Takashi gave a small nod, like he was agreeing with the timeframe but not the phrasing.

“Before I say anything else, thank you,” Sam continued.  “From the bottom of my heart.  I can never thank you enough for what you did for Matt.”  Takashi nodded, but his head angled down toward the bed instead of Sam, like he was resisting the urge to hide behind his bangs.  “And now you should never do it again.  These people lost you once already, Takashi.  Matt and I lost you twice.  Please don't do it again.”

Head snapping up, Takashi stared.  “I can’t promise that.”

Sam inclined his head.  “Try.  We’ll work on it.”  When Takashi didn’t seem to have a response to that but to gape, Sam smiled.  “That can be later.  For now, should I start from the beginning?”

“Please.”

So he did.

It was a highlights reel, full of rescues and reuniting, easy stories to clear the air.  It felt like the most Sam had spoken in one go for a long time.

He was in the middle of the story where Keith’s shirt got stuck on the tooth of his lion’s hatch while it stood back up when there was a knock on the door.  Katie stuck her head in, offering a smile in greeting.  Sam glanced up at her.  “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, for you to stop hoarding Shiro.”  Katie stepped into the room, leaving it open behind you.  “There’s a line, you know.”

Takashi tilted his head.  “Huh.  Should I give up and just go see everyone at once?”

That only made Katie snort.  “Hell no, we’d mob you, it’d be awful.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at Sam again.  “Thank you for speaking to me for so long.”

“Not a problem at all, Takashi.  I’m happy to talk with you more later, when things have settled more.  You know I love my stories.”

Takashi nodded again, then smiled at Pidge.  “Hey.  You found them.  You saved them.”

Katie stilled, then her expression softened.  “Yeah.  I did.”  She closed her eyes hard.  “I wish you had been there.”  The words came out strangled, the result of a very old wound.

“Pidge,” Takashi murmured.  He reached out and tugged on her, and she pressed against him, face buried in his shoulder.  “I’m so sorry.  I should have been there with you.  But I’m so proud of you.”

While Katie didn’t cry - or, at least, Sam didn’t hear sobs - she did hold on tightly, gripping the back of Takashi’s shirt.  “We missed you so much.”

“I know,” Takashi replied softly, expression pained but calm.  He seemed to sit up straighter while Katie held on.  It made sense.  This was probably closer to what he used to.  “I’m here now.”

When Takashi glanced over at Sam, he offered a thin smile and a nod.

It only took Sam a moment to realize what he meant.  That Takashi understood now.  That the pain here was worth protecting against, even if that meant Takashi had to care more for his own health and safety.

There were scars.  There would always be scars, the same way they couldn’t take away the one on Takashi’s face.

But the sting faded.  The wounds healed.  Time marched on.

Sam couldn’t promise it would be easier from here on out.  But he could promise he’d do everything to try.

Today, that was enough.

Today there was one less ghost.

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of note:
> 
> Hey, turns out Colleen is in Ten Years On! It's a surprise to me too.
> 
> On Shiro's Uncle's name: It's given in Western format since that's how likely how it's saved in the records, and it's how Sam's used to addressing people. The reason for Yamamoto is that they're from his mother's side (and that way I can nod to the Ten Years Later arc of Reborn!, which is probably no small part what inspired this verse in the first place). This does share my Spectrum Verse backstory for Shiro, which you can find [here](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com/post/153839799712/headcanons-on-shiros-home-lifechildhood). To summarize it: Shiro went to live with his aunt and uncle when he was about 10, so from there on he was basically a latchkey kid with a monthly budget, and just told to keep himself out of trouble. I wanted a backstory that explained Shiro's strange mix of being reserved, sincere, independent, having some specific interests, and his tendency to adopt family so quickly. This works for me.


End file.
